


Seeking the Sun

by Echo (Lyrecho), Kestrealbird



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Twins, Both F!Byleth and M!Byleth Exist Here, Call Her Bel, Co-Written, F!Byleth's Name Is Beleth, More Tags Added As They Apply, Multi, Slow To Update, casual fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2020-08-14 09:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20190082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrecho/pseuds/Echo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrealbird/pseuds/Kestrealbird
Summary: Two siblings walking the same road stumble across a diverging path.Find Echo here:|Tumblr||Twitter|Find Tea here:|Tumblr||Twitter|





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is an au tea and i came up with in a few hours of horrified discord dm spitballing as we Kept Making Everything Worse,,,
> 
> this is a cowritten effort in which we will take turns writing the chapters - so i (echo) started us off with the first one here, so tea will tackle chapter two, and then i'll take chapter three...and so on and so forth. updates will be slow and likely wildly varying in length. this is something fun we're doing casually - a fic by us, for us - so please don't expect too much from it in terms of wordcount or update speed asdkslgher
> 
> that said, i hope you enjoy!
> 
> slight edit: neither of us have finished all the routes which is another reason updates will be slow ^~^

_A dark room. Cold stone. Green light emanating, with no visible source. There's nothing tangible to this space - _  
  
_\- nothing real, except The Voice._  
  
_"What could have brought _you_ here?"_  
  
_Byleth opens his mouth to answer, and speaks with his sister's voice._

* * *

He wakes with a start - a minute flinch as his eyes fix on the ceiling, and on the bed next to his, he hears Beleth's sharp intake of breath as she wakes, too - at the exact same time as him.  
  
She rolls over, and he sits up, and sees in Bel's eyes the knowledge that already sits heavy in the back of his mind; once again, they'd shared the same dream. Dreamed of That Girl again, no less.  
  
There's no time to question Bel if her memory of it is any less foggy than his, though - Father walks into the room and raises a brow when he sees them both awake. Concern is quick to chase his surprise away; for Byleth, an early awakening is nothing out of the ordinary, but Bel usually requires outside encouragement to leave her bed.  
  
"You guys have that dream again?" Father squints at them. "The war, or the girl?"  
  
"The girl," Bel says, and it's easy to hear the relief her voice exudes. That's one way they differ; Bel would rather dream of the girl asleep on the throne in that intangible nowhere place than wake screaming from the violence of war again, and Byleth would rather face the reality of blood and death than spend a second longer in that place of darklit green that makes him itch under his skin, even in his sleep.  
  
The girl had woken this time, though. That was new. She'd spoken, too.  
  
Bel doesn't mention that to Father, and Byleth has no plans to elaborate further, either. This dream has remained the same for years - unchanging. He does not know why it has changed now, but perhaps if they ignore it, said change will go away.  
  
(He'd thought as much about the dreams themselves, once. It was a method yet to work.)  
  
He blinks back to the present from his own thoughts just in time to see Bel smile at Father in a way he'd come to learn meant she was rolling her eyes on the inside. He has to bite back a smirk of his own - he'd missed whatever exchange had floated between them, but knowing both his father and sister as well as he did, he could make an educated guess.  
  
One of the men of Father's company burst into the room, and - though he was clearly in a panic - Father's scowl immediately brought him up short.  
  
"What have I said," Father says, low and dangerous, like the growl of thunder before lightning strikes twice, "about entering the rooms my children stay in?"  
  
"Uh," the mercenary's eyes land on Bel - who looks caught somewhere between annoyance and resignation - before immediately flicking away to rest on the most neutral ground he'll find in the room - the far wall. "To knock? But - I swear, sir, it's an emergency - "  
  
"To knock," Father agrees, "and wait to be told to enter. Do you know what I'd have done to you if you'd walked in on my daughter changing? Do you know what my _son_ would have done?"  
  
The mercenary looks his way, and Byleth makes sure to smile at him. It feels very awkward - he doesn't smile often. Bel says it doesn't matter, because she can always tell what he's feeling regardless, and _anyway, your face is scary._ It seems on this front, she's right, because the mercenary pales. His smile widens. Excellent.  
  
"_Knock_, next time," Father presses, and his mercenary nods frantically. "Now, what's this emergency?"  
  
While the frazzled mercenary gathers his wits back together, Bel shoulder checks Byleth on her way out of the room, dagger fastened to her side and scowl fastened to her face. She looks so much like Father sometimes that it's bizarre.  
  
"Are you mad?"  
  
Bel's scowl slips into a full glare. "I'm not a baby," she grumbles. "If someone walked in on me changing I'm perfectly capable of throwing them from the nearest window myself."  
  
Byleth shrugs. She's right, of course, but The Rule - and Father's reaction - has very little to do with Bel's skills and their faith in them, and everything to do with the politics of running a mercenary group. The truth of the matter is that for every honest, honorable man the sellsword life produces, there are two of a different breed. Jeralt's control over the company is paramount, which means the safety of his two greatest weaknesses must be seen to. Beleth is seen as the easier target of the two - because she is smaller, because she is friendlier, because she is a woman.  
  
Nonsense, of course, but a group of stupid men may still be a group of men just large enough to overwhelm her - for all her strength, Bel is still only one person. An army she does not make.  
  
"Remind Father of that later," he says out loud. "For now, business."  
  
He nods ahead, where some of Father's officers mill around a group of unfamiliar people dressed in clothes that scream of coin. Bel perks up a little next to him, scowl falling away for a congenial customer service smile, and Byleth notes that these people - surely the cause of the emergency - surely can't be that much younger than he and his sister; late teens, he guesses.  
  
He falls back to allow Bel to take the lead - on the battlefield he may shine, but this is her territory - and watches in amusement, able to pinpoint the exact moment the girl of the group notices his sister stalking towards them.  
  
Truly, he cannot blame her for her flabbergasted expression. Beleth's sense of fashion is...something else, to be sure.  
  
"Good morning!" Bel's greeting lands right on the painful side of cheerful. "I hear you three are the cause of some sort of emergency?"  
  
The girl's surprise drops for a glare, but one of the boys - the one whose clothing is accented in yellow - laughs, heartily, and from the belly. Byleth narrows his eyes. He's heard enough over the years from Bel's complaints about his lack of expression to know when laughter rings true, and every sound that falls from this man's lips tastes _false_ to him.  
  
_Suspicious_, he thinks, but trusts that Bel has it well in hand.  
  
"The cause? You could say that, I suppose," the liar grins, and leans in close to his sister, as if to whisper, though his volume does not drop at all. "Ran into some bandits out on a training exercise. They were after the usual, you know? Our honour, our lives, our _gold_." He winks at her, and Bel laughs. It's enough to make Byleth scowl. He knows his sister enough to know she trusts this group not at all, but he also knows her enough to know her delight is genuine. Amusement sparkles in her eyes when she turns to wave him forward, and it's enough to have him frowning.  
  
He steps towards her regardless - a united front.  
  
"Gold, you say?" She queries as she turns back to the liar, and the girl makes a derisive _tch_. The boy closest to her - the one in blue, who has been content in his silence - shoots her a frown.  
  
Were she not so refined, Byleth thinks, and exuding such an aura of control, of maturity...she would have rolled her eyes.  
  
"Gold aplenty!" The liar assures. "Not that it would do you much good with us, you know, dead?" He winks.  
  
Bel hums, like she's actually considering the pros and cons of helping these three stay alive. She probably is, to be honest - she'll just be weighing the pros column heavily in their favour, because his sister has never quite managed the _mercenary_ part of being a mercenary.  
  
"I don't know," she muses aloud. "Even if you weren't carrying your apparent wealth on you, the brocade on your uniforms would fetch us a pretty penny!"  
  
"Or an execution." Father's voice, and only well practiced control keeps the both of them from flinching as he steps up behind them. He shakes his head at Bel in admonishment, and she offers him a sheepish grin. "Surely I've taught you two better than that? You can't tell me you don't recognise those uniforms."  
  
Bel pauses, and squints back at the three. Byleth does no such thing, but he definitely exerts that same level of concentration as he refocuses on them.  
  
"Ah," he says, at the same time that Bel blinks, her mouth opening in an _oh_ of realisation.  
  
"Garreg Mach?" She says, and there's no mistaking the genuine surprise colouring her tone as she drops her facade for just a moment. "But that's so far away!"  
  
"Not that far," Father dismisses, and narrows his gaze on what Byleth now notes are students, and rather panicked ones, under the practiced cool demeanour. "So. What trouble have you three noble brats gotten yourselves into?"  
  
The girl bristles, her cheeks flushing as red as the accents on her clothes. The liar narrows his eyes, and the silent one opens his mouth to speak.  
  
"Bandits," Bel says, and Father shakes his head.  
  
"A plague on this earth," he says, sounding tired enough to make Byleth want to sleep, even though he just woke up, even though the first rays of dawn will soon be climbing across the horizon. "Well, we can't just abandon this town now, not after all they've done for us," he sighs. "Arm up, men - we've got some rodents to take care of."  
  
A roar goes up around the camp as the men shout their acknowledgement, and the silent one bows to them - lower than Byleth imagines is proper for a noble of any land to bow to a commoner, deep enough it has Father's brows jumping to his hairline.  
  
"I thank you," he says, and straightens up, fist still pressed to his heart. "Your aid is greatly appreciated."  
  
Father snorts. "Keep the appreciation for once you make it out of this alive, kid," he says, and then immediately dismisses the boy, attention refocusing on Byleth. "Take the front lines," he says, and Byleth nods in agreement. "Bel, you guard our noble brats here."  
  
Bel nods easily. "If they die, we don't get paid," she says. "That'd sure make it hard to have sweet dreams tonight." There's a double-edged meaning to her words Byleth doesn't feel comfortable addressing in front of strangers, so with tight lips, he lets it go, and lets Father direct him away from his sister and to the men he'll be commanding for the battle - he's familiar with them, even if he can't recall their names, and they all follow him respectfully enough; to these men, he's not just Jeralt's son - he's proven his own merits to them, time and time again.  
  
The easy cohesiveness of their unit makes battle against untrained brigands a breeze, which leaves Byleth with plenty of attention to spare on his sister's side of the battlefield. She more than holds her own, and he feels something almost akin to pride as he sees her bark out orders the students jump to follow, as she directs them to their targets like she's been a commander a hundred times over.  
  
Truly, she and Father are so much alike.

A shout from one of the men in his unit, and Byleth transfers his attention from Beleth to his subordinates just in time to divert a lance from ripping through the man's side.

"Stay focused," he says, and readies his sword for a parry.

"Right," the man behind him pants, and takes a moment to find his composure once more.

After that, the battle is as it should be - near silent but for grunts and the ring of clashing metal, that taste of blood and sweat fading under the pounding rush of adrenaline. Byleth could never say that he liked to fight - it was in no way his idea of a leisure activity - but he also couldn't say he did not enjoy fighting, when the need arose. It's because of that enjoyment that when the battle reached its end, he was almost disappointed. Father rode up to him with a satisfied grin, the men of his own cavalry unit by his side, and across the field Beleth salutes them from where she stands at the side of the girl in red and tries to wrangle the other two nobles back closer to her. 

"Like herding cats," Father says, amused, and Byleth turns to look up at him. "She's lucky it's just a trio of noble brats, and not kids like the two of you. The hell I had, when you discovered walking -"

Father stiffens. His face goes white, dreadfully pale, and something like terror flashes into his expression as he opens his mouth to yell. It's not a look Byleth has ever seen on his father's face before. It's one he never hopes to see again, especially since he knows where Father is looking, knows to whom his gaze leads.

Sick to his stomach, dizzying dread settling like cloying ice, Byleth looks over at Beleth just in time to see a bandit's axe split her open.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins finally, officially, meet Sothis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this chapter took forever to finish but then the Ashen Wolves DLC came out and I was like "hell yeah time to churn this shit out" so anyway thank you Echo for being so patient with my slow ass progress I love you ;; (Also I still haven't finished any route outside of GD rip me lmao)

There is no sound, no thought, no image. Byleth feels like he is sleeping, sitting on - on some kind of throne, from what little he can feel of the stone and height, and he is neither cold nor hot. But there is anger sizzling under his skin, and it is this anger that awakens him, sharply, to see his sister standing before him, blinking confusion from her eyes.

Beleth looks up at him, mouth pulled into a frown. Byleth wants to reach out to her, but, frustratingly, his body refuses to move, and when he speaks it's with a voice that isn't his own.

"It's rude to wake someone up in such a disgraceful manner," the voice says. They sound feminine, with an indistinguishable age. Byleth grimaces at how the sound echoes - the way it scratches his throat as though it's a great effort to force the words out.

He feels as though he hasn't spoken in over an age. Beleth, clearly, doesn't have the same problem.

“I - I’m sorry?”

“Is that _ all _you have to say to me?”

Beleth blinks, opens her mouth, then closes it again. Byleth’s annoyance rises and if it were possible he’d have stood in front of his sister to glare down whoever this voice belongs to. 

The voice speaks up again, and Byleth feels as though his hand is tapping its fingers, but the sensation is...off. Foreign - as though the hand doesn’t belong to him. He feels like screaming. “What were you thinking pulling such a dangerous stunt? You could’ve been killed!”

Killed? What is she -

_ Beleth, rushing to protect someone. The axe striking her back. Father’s voice. Time stopping in place. _

She always acts without thinking first but...neither of them feel dead, so what is _ happening _ right now? Where _ are _they?

Not being able to ask these questions frustrates him to no end. More than anything, however, he wants to run up to Beleth and crush her against him - to hold her close and protect her. Heal her. If only he could _ move. _

Beleth stands tall, defiant. “I couldn’t just do nothing,” she states. “I had to get there in time to protect her!”

“A fine job you’ve done! If I hadn’t frozen time when I did, _ both _of you would be lying dead right now.”

Naturally. There’s no way that bandit would’ve stopped at just attacking Beleth. He would’ve continued his assault on the young noble too, and Byleth has his doubts about her chances of survival.

Though, Father or that stupid lying archer might’ve reacted in time to help her.

“You...stopped time?” 

Of course that's what his sister chooses to focus on. Nevermind the “you almost died” part of it. Byleth couldn’t give much of a damn about the specifics right now, so long as Beleth is _ safe. _

“Of course, though it’s only momentary,” the voice scoffs, as though stopping time is something they do everyday. “But...how _ did _ I manage to do such a thing?” The last bit goes unheard by Beleth. If only Byleth could just _ talk _already, this whole thing would go a lot faster.

…

What would go faster exactly? Introductions? Getting time to move again, just so Beleth can get struck down? What is it that he _ wants _ to propose here? None of this makes any _ sense, _ what the _ hell _is going on?

Beleth is silent for a moment. Thinking. “If you restarted time what would happen to me?”

Byleth feels as though he’s looking down at her with boredom. His own emotions, however, are far more aggressive. “You would die.”

Beleth flinches. 

The voice sighs, and Byleth rises from his - their? - seat. “I suppose I’ll just have to protect you now.”

“Protect me?” Beleth looks on with confusion. The hopeful look in her eyes is as bright as the sun.

“Well, since you don’t know the value of your own life, it’s like _ you’re _going to protect it very well, are you?”

Despite the absurdity of this whole -_ situation, _Byleth agrees with her. Bel has the decency to look sheepish, aware of her own reckless behaviour.

“My name is Sothis,” they continue, “but I’m also known as ‘The Beginning.’ You best remember that, since I’ll be helping you from now on.”

Sothis. Something about that name resonates with him; does he know this person from somewhere? And, come to think of, this place also…

But where has he seen it before?

“Sothis. Yes, that’s it, my name is Sothis. And also ‘the beginning.’ But who once called me that?”

What? Had she not known her own name? And yet she’d so confidently announced that she would help Bel just ten seconds ago...if he were currently capable of it, Byleth is sure he’d have developed a headache.

“What are you talking about?” 

At least he’s not the only one with questions about all of this.

“I could not recall my own name until just now. And just like that it came to me. How odd…”

Odd, indeed. Just who _ was _this person?

Bel’s face takes on an expression of shock, then sympathy and finally settles on the amused look she gives children when they say something particularly dumb.

Sothis notices it too. “That look upon your face...did you think of me as a mere child who had forgotten her own name!?”

So, Sothis was a girl th -

_ An empty space. A girl, sleeping on a throne. _

This...this was the same place as his dreams -! But how was that possible!?

“I apologize,” he hears Bel say, “that was rude of me.”

Sothis scoffs. “I’d say so.” A sigh. “Ah, well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. You’re not much of an adult yourself, after all, jumping in front of an axe to save a young girl like that.”

Yes, that’s right. Bel’s safety was more important than - than whatever this place was. He needed to focus on that right now. The rest could be digested later, when he was alone or with Bel, away from everyone else.

“If I had not intervened,” Sothis says a little louder, “and stalled time when I did, you certainly would have died.”

Bel bows deeply, remembering Father’s lessons on manners. “Thank you for saving me,” she says sincerely. “I’m sorry for causing you trouble.”

Sothis pauses. “Do not thank me just yet.”

“Hm?”

“Have you forgotten? When I restart time, you will die.”

Beleth looks around frantically, the same way she did when they were kids and trying to find him in a crowd. Then, suddenly, her eyes brighten with what Byleth knows will be an utterly stupid yet amazing plan. “What if - what if you rewind the hands of time?”

“Yes...I do believe that can be done!” Sothis conjures a magical symbol in front herself, bright gold and shining. “You really are quite troublesome,” she states, though Byleth can hear the amusement in her voice now. “I cannot rewind time too far but all is well. You are aware of what’s to come, which means you can protect yourself this time.” Bel nods. “Now go...you who bears the flames within. Drift through the flow of time to find the answers that you seek.”

Byleth’s vision goes black.

\---

He feels it when time reverses itself. His body jerks back as if he’s been awakened with cold water, and the scene before him has returned to just before the attack. The bandit raises his axe, charging the noble. She takes out her knife, but Beleth gets there first.

This time, his sister faces her attacker, and deflects his axe.

Byleth only has a split-second of relief - just enough to relax his shoulders, to stop thinking - when the axe slices Bel's side instead, a clean cut from stomach to hip. 

His throat fills with bile.

The bandit leader looks surprised at the wound, yet no less victorious. His victory is short-lived.

Father lets out such a terrifying, guttural shout, that it causes the lower bandits to turn tail and run. Their leader loses his bravado in the face of Jeralt’s anger, quickly fleeing with his men, and Byleth wants to chase after them - to gut them all one by one, and watch the life drain from their leader’s eyes under his boot. 

But Bel is bleeding, and she _ needs him _ more.

He skids next to her, catching her as she stumbles sideways. The girl she’d saved hovers next to them, eyes wide in shock.

“Idiot,” Byleth hisses even as he pulls at the magic within himself.

It hums through his veins, waking for the first time in months. His blood runs hot, and his eyes close instinctively. Father had always been against learning the Church’s magic - he’d tried to keep them as separated from that life as possible but Byleth had been a sneaky child, and he’d taken scraps of books from whatever places he could find whenever he got the chance.

He knows the name of Seiros. He remembers the words for their prayers, the intonations needed in his voice. It had taken years of self-practice to get it correct; waiting for Bel to fall asleep before he pricked his fingers on knives and recited the prayers over and over and over again.

Father must’ve known what he was doing. Sometimes, on those late nights, Byleth could hear him walking about the camp, always too close to their tents. And, in the mornings, he would glance at Byleth with concern.

He’s glad that Father never outright stopped him. He can save Bel’s life with this.

The prayer itself comes easy - his voice shakes as he speaks it. Bel holds his hand in her own, squeezing lightly. She has faith in him; that’s all he needs to succeed.

Twice he uses this spell. He hears windchimes in his ears - sees himself and Bel and Father sitting around the campfire, bickering over food portions. 

“Byleth.”

His eyes open. Bel looks back at him, her wound closed, mouth stretched into a smile. He releases another shaky breath and sits back on his heels. “Idiot,” he repeats, softer this time.

Bel grunts as she sits up, Father’s hand on her back to assist her. Byleth hadn’t even heard him appear. The nobles mumble amongst themselves to the side. Father’s mouth is a thin line. He nods at Byleth.

Bel has to lean against him as she stands, wobbly on her feet. Byleth supports her weight easily, tucking her close to his side.

“Sorry,” Bel mumbles. “I thought I could push him back.”

“It’s fine,” Byleth lies, “just...don’t do that again, okay?” Bel, also lying, nods.

“I appreciate your help back there,” says the girl Bel had saved. “You’re clearly a skilled mercenary.” 

“It was no trouble,” Bel tells her. Byleth frowns openly. 

“Your father,” the girl continues, “that would be Jeralt the Blade Breaker, yes?”

Byleth bristles defensively. “And if he is?”

“Ignore him,” Bel says smoothly. “Yes that’s our Father.”

“And you are?” Byleth asks, staring down all three of them.

“Oh! My apologies for not introducing myself. I am Edelgard, Princess of the Adrestian Empire. And these two -” she gestures - “are Prince Dimitri of Faerghus and Claude, heir to the Leicester Alliance.”

So, the liar finally has a name.

“Man, you really saved our hides back there,” Claude says. “We were doing some training when those bandits attacked us. I definitely got the worst of it though.”

Edelgard scowls. “That would be because you ran off.”

“It was a strategic retreat!” He winks at Bel. “Everything would’ve worked out if these two hadn’t followed me. Because of them we ended up getting chased by every single bandit. Utterly ridiculous.”

He was going to use them as scape-goats then. Smart, yes, but not someone Byleth would trust.

“Ah so that’s what you were thinking,” Dimitri speaks up at last. “And here I thought you were using yourself as a decoy for all of us.”

Bel cocks her head. “If you thought he was the decoy then why did you follow him?”

“I - well that’s -”

Claude laughs. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get tongue-tied so quickly. Impressive.”

Edelgard’s eyes roll. “His intentions were clear as day. You will prove yourself a lacking leader if you cannot see the truth behind someone’s words.”

“He ran without speaking though didn’t he?” Byleth argues. “Not a whole lot of words to dissect there.”

Edelgard’s head snaps in his direction. Her eyes narrow coldly. 

Good. The air about her is too high and mighty for his tastes.

Dimitri shakes his head. “It’s alright. Edelgard looks for deceit in everything. I would rather be lacking as a leader by trusting too much then lacking because I fail to trust those whom I can rely on.”

Impressive. Even nobles such as these have conflicts of interest.

“Oh joy. A royal debate between Their Highnesses” 

Bel considers him for a moment. “Are you royalty as well?”

“Me?” Claude laughs. “Oh no. The Leicester Alliance doesn’t operate the same way as the Empire of Adrestia or the Kingdom of Faerghus. I’m surprised you don’t know about that.”

“We don’t interact with a lot of people,” Bel explains. “And Father prefers us not to concern ourselves with everyone else’s affairs.”

“And yet you were both so captivating in that fight! I still have much to learn if I can ever hope to be as skilled as you were.”

At least Dimitri is humbled. Byleth can respect that, even if his demeanor sounds too forcefully cheery.

“Your skill is precisely why I have a favour to ask of you.” Edelgard looks directly at Bel. “Would you consider lending your services to the Empire?”

“No,” Byleth cuts in. “We wouldn’t.”

Something about Edelgard strikes him the wrong way - perhaps it’s the coldness hidden in her eyes, or perhaps he simply doesn’t like her - so he shoulders his way between her and Beleth, bristling despite Bel’s warning pinch to his hand.

Edelgard blinks, shocked, yet soldiers on anyway with her pointless questions. “If you don’t mind my asking -”

“ - one of them does,” Claude mutters, loud enough to be heard.

Edelgard ignores him, raising her voice a little higher. “ - where _ do _your allegiances lie then?”

_ Not with you, _ Byleth thinks. _ Not ever. _ Before Bel can offer up an answer of her own, Byleth sharply says, “with each other and _ no-one _ else.”

“I - I see. Forgive me for my unfair assumptions.”

Byleth won’t. He doesn’t like Edelgard, not at all, and he’ll be damned if he lets her assume that she can just lock them both into a neat tidy box. 

The sound of heavy armour reaches them, cutting off any further conversation. Bel and Byleth turn to see a heavy-set man and two others, weilding an axe in his hands.

“The Knights of Seiros are here! We’ll cut you down for terrorizing our students!”

“Knights of -”

“ - Seiros?”

Byleth looks at Bel, clueless. Bel shrugs her shoulders.

Father stiffens in front of them. “Ah, hell,” he mutters.

“Hey!” The newcomer shouts, “the thieves are running away! Go after them!”

Whoever these people are, they don’t seem to be a threat. If they were, Father wouldn’t let this newcomer approach them at all.

“The students seem to be unharmed.” The newcomer gives the nobles a quick once-over. Satisfied, he turns to Father. “And...who is this?”

“Ugh,” Father complains, “why him?”

Byleth has never felt more intrigued by someone in his life. How does Father _ know _this person? And why does he look so resigned by the man’s presence?

“Captain Jeralt!? It _ is _you, goodness it’s been ages!” 

Father takes a deep breath. “Alois,” he says politely. 

“Why it’s been 20 years since you went missing without a trace!” Missing? “I always knew you were still alive somewhere.” 

“Um,” Bel says, “what?”

“You haven't changed a bit, Alois. Just as loud as ever.” Father shakes his head. “And drop that ‘Captain’ nonsense. I’m not your Captain anymore.”

“You were his Captain?” Byleth asks.

Father sighs. “Once,” he replies, “but now I’m just a wandering mercenary. One who has _ work _to do.” That last bit he directs to Alois, who...doesn’t seem to take the hint. 

“Wait! I _ insist _you return to the monastery with me!”

The monastery? 

Bel leans closer to Byleth, voice hushed. “Father used to be at the monastery?”

“Apparently,” Byleth whispers back.

“Garreg Mach Monastery,” Father says slowly. “I suppose _ this _was inevitable.”

Alois turns to Byleth and Bel, then, making both of them stand up straighter. “How about you, kids? Are you the Captain’s children?”

“Yes,” Bel replies at the same time that Byleth says, “no.”

Bel elbows his ribs. Byleth suppresses a wince. 

“They are,” Father agrees, shooting both of them a warning look.

“I thought so,” Alois crows cheerfully. “Their mannerisms remind me of you! Anyway -” Alois addresses them again - “I’d love for you to see the monastery too. You will join me, won’t you?”

Bel shrugs. “If Father goes then…”

“Does the monastery have books on healing spells?”

Father frowns. “Byleth -”

“It certainly does!”

“Then we’ll go,” Byleth states. 

He _ needs _those books. Byleth doesn’t hold his Father’s reservations about practicing the Faith, and he knows that Garreg Mach has an extensive collection of material he could use. 

This way, he won’t need to scavenge and practice in secret, when Bel has gone to bed and he’s alone with his thoughts.

“You’re not goin to try and run away again, are you?” Alois asks their Father.

Father sighs again, this time defeated. “Even I wouldn’t dare run from the Knights of Seiros.”

“Wonderful!” Alois claps Father on the shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll even help you pack your things!”

“That’s not necessary -”

“Nonsense! Come, Captain Jeralt, show me where you’re staying so we can get going as soon as possible!”

Father lets himself be dragged away from them, shoulders sagging as Alois continues to talk boisterously.

“The Knights of Seiros,” Bel repeats. “They do seem rather skilled.”

“Mm,” Byleth agrees. “And they know Father.”

Bel bites her lip. “Edelgard is a very refined young woman, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Byleth replies slowly. “I suppose.”

“I feel like she was evaluating me.”

Byleth nearly scoffs.

“And Claude was quite striking.”

“His smile doesn’t reach his eyes though,” Byleth tells her.

Bel hums. “You don’t like any of them, then?”

Byleth falters. “Dimitri...seemed the most sincere. But I wouldn’t trust any of them.”

Bel sighs, shaking her head. “Just try not to pick any fights on the way to the Monastery.”

No promises on that one.

Father doesn’t have a lot of personal possessions and, outside of his books, neither does Byleth. Bel takes a little longer - she doesn’t want to leave behind any of her blankets but she’s also notoriously terrible at folding them so they can fit into her backpack. She joins them ten minutes after Byleth has collected his books, bouncing on her feet.

Alois grins at them. “I cannot wait for Lady Rhea to see all of you! Oh, she’ll be so happy to know that you’re doing well, Captain Jeralt!”

“Lady Rhea? The one in charge of the Church?” Bel leans forward in interest. 

“The very same!” Alois exclaims. “She runs the Garreg Mach Monastery. I’m sure she’ll like both of you.”

Byleth feels an itch under his skin, a flutter of something in his stomach - nerves? excitement? - at the mere mention of her name. He wonders what she's like, to be kind enough to run a school for nobles and commoners alike.

Father doesn’t seem particularly happy about the arrangement, but he heaves a great sigh and follows after Alois regardless, clutching Laeg’s reins in his hand. Would Lady Rhea truly like them? Would she be able to teach Byleth more about Faith and the Church? 

He catches sight of Bel laughing to one of _ Claude’s _jokes, and chatting amicably with Edelgard. 

She’s making friends with them already. _ Typical. _

Dimitri must catch sight of his scowl, because he suddenly looks very sheepish and backs off from Bel’s space, awkwardly looking anywhere else that isn’t her. Byleth thinks he likes Dimitri the most. His personality is more agreeable than the other two.

He nods politely at Dimitri. Dimitri smiles in return. His eyes have a darkness hidden inside of them, but at least his smile is genuine - open and honest. Byleth prefers honesty. 

Sothis had also been honest. Byleth can’t get her voice out of his head, let alone her name. Bel had nearly died today and Sothis had frozen time to save her, then rewound it altogether.

Byleth wishes he could thank her for that. He doesn’t know who she is, nor why she helped Beleth but -

_ "You remember what happened, don't you?" _

Byleth stops walking.


End file.
